Cobalt
by Anne la Jordanie
Summary: Seto Kaiba has a rocky relationship with the press. But after meeting this reporter he finds a little well earned respect and even a little romance.


Cobalt

AN: This stemmed from a curiosity about what Seto Kaiba's ideal woman would be like, what his relationship with the press would be like, and a slightly philosophic perspective of him. I do not own Yugioh, Seto Kaiba, James Taggart, Hank Rearden, or Betram Scudder. The later three are the property of Ayn Rand. I'm just borrowing.

I've read, seen, and heard a million news articles about myself. The first one was in a local newspaper in my hometown. It talked about the two little boys who had been recently orphaned. The second was about the genius orphan and his little brother who had been adopted by the millionaire, Gozaboro Kaiba. Then came the news stories about his death, debating whether or not it had been caused by that very genius orphan and his takeover of the company, Kaiba Corp.

Subsequently the articles about the youngest CEO in the world filled news stands. At first they were complimentary. I was 'intelligent,' 'clever,' 'reserved, but mature.' As I got older the review be came less flattering. I was 'arrogant,' my company policies were 'unfair,' and my inventions were 'bizarre.'

Most reporters who never interviewed me were fairly objective; their stories were about Kaiba Corp. But any reporter I let near me came out with stories revolving around me. Maybe be it was my charisma? A typical news article looked like this:

_Seto Kaiba is the bane of our society's future. How can such a man be entrusted with a huge company like Kaiba Corp? He is self-centered and self-assured, totally ignoring society's wishes and needs. Even his clothes are indicative of this selfish attitude. He sits in board rooms with great men, like James Taggart, wearing trench-coats, buckles, and a smug smile. He bullies the decent men who dress in society's acceptable and esteemed garments, the three piece suit, laughing as he flagrantly defies custom. This disregard could be forgiven as the eccentricity of the rich and powerful if Mr. Kaiba shared his wealth with the masses. Instead, his policies within his company, Kaiba Corp (like Hank Rearden, Mr. Kaiba feels the need to put his name on everything, like some gangster graffiti artist), are harsh on the common man, offering only the most basic of benefits to the workers and giving bonuses to only the most skilled. Mr. Kaiba's business tactics are equally unscrupulous; his mega-corporation has forced many smaller companies out of business. Nor does he give out of his own pocket; when asked if he gave money to charity, perhaps to the orphanage where he and his younger brother lived as children, he responded "Certainly not. I earned my way out of that hell-hole. Giving that place money would make them think they have some claim on me just because I'm successful." For certain, there is no pity or mercy in Mr. Kaiba's cold eyes. But then again, neither is there happiness.Betram Scudder, reporter_

Obviously, they were rarely kindly, which was bad for sales. Consequentially, I never gave interviews except when it was absolutely essential. 'Essential' seemed to have a different definition for my advisors. Every little thing required me to voice my opinion to the press. I finally put my foot down and forbade any interviews they couldn't argue properly for. Not many interviews came after that. Who could argue with me, much less when I'm paying their salary?

I hadn't given an interview in a year and a half when my advisors approached me.

They wanted to arrange an interview with a young college student for the Domino University school paper. As I was to be looking at colleges soon I simply had to talk about myself (so they thought). I flatly refused. If there was someone I didn't want near me, it was an aspiring journalist who would write to please a professor and lie through their teeth to do it.

My advisors promised this would be different. They had selected the interviewer already, a girl who had earned top grades in all her classes (finance, philosophy, physics: an excellent list), had been awarded a full scholarship, was majoring in business, and had been known to write articles favoring large businesses. Since she was a young journalist she would not have that vicious line of inquiry (often the same questions were asked by each new salivating dog in the same rabid tone). I protested, but they had covered every angle, even checking my schedule to see if I had time (the interview was to be kept under a strict time limit of twenty minutes). Eventually I agreed.

-

The day of the interview arrived. At first I worried about what to wear. My uniform would project studiousness, but might make me seem young. A suit would look formal and I wasn't sure if that was good or bad. Suddenly it hit me that I was permitting a reporter to decide what I ought to put on my body. Shaking my head at my folly, I dressed as I wished.

By the time I got to my office where the interview was to take place I realized I had gone a little overboard with my rebellious clothes. I liked this outfit, certainly, but I wasn't so sure I'd be comfortable in front of a stranger. My trademark trench coat was a shocking white, as sterile as any lab coat. Underneath it I wore black slacks and a black silk shirt open at the collar. A pair of wire-rimmed sunglasses were halfway down my nose, but most unusual of all I wore a belt as a choker. I got the strange feeling of being a Mafioso with a side job as a stripper.

I didn't have too long to wait; the reporter was punctual, at least. She knocked precisely at nine o'clock.

"Come in."

She was not pretty by any means. Not ugly, or even displeasing, just not pretty. Austere was the word I thought of. Light brown hair was caught in a bun at the nape of her neck and granite grey eyes met mine firmly. I noticed the fact that she wasn't wearing any make-up, making her look strict. A sharp nose and a narrow face added to the severity of her appearance. She wore a black turtleneck and a plaid skirt without the slightest appearance of wearing clothes at all; they seemed as much a part of her as her own skin.

"Hello. I'm Ms. Alyx Archer."

She shook my hand firmly, while I noted that her hands were free of the painted nails and lotion coated skin most other women sported. I indicated her seat and sat down behind my desk. As I did so she pulled a recorder from her bag.

"Would you mind? I don't want to misquote you."

My mind suddenly focused. Without a word from me she had trapped me into a recorded interview. There was no way, after the implication that it was for my benifit, I could turn her down without seeming uncouth. She was devious. I'd have to watch out.

"Not at all."

"Mr. Kaiba, there is something I'd like to clarify with you. The purpose of this interview is to see you through the lense of your company, but if that is not what you wish to discuss, tell me."

See me through the lense of my company? I thought I'd never _been _seen in any other way since I had aquired it. But was that really true? My company was wealthy, but it made games. My company in and of itself was not disliked; I was. My company, I suddenly realized, was seen through the lense of _me_. If indeed she wanted to see me through the lense of my company I could expect the finest review ever. I doubted that that was what was going to happen, though.

"Yes, Ms. Archer, that is quite aceptable. Even delightful."

"Splended. Let's get started then." She hit the record button. I'd have to watch my step from here on in. "Mr. Kaiba, with your takeover of Kaiba Corp several years ago there were some drastic changes in your company, including the change of products from weapons to games. Why did you make these changes?"

What was she looking for? A quip about my own personal feelings about war? I did not like it; it was wasteful of resorces. But I wasn't a hippy pacifist who would talk about politics durring an unrelated interview. I answered honestly.

"I made the change of products because the market at the time was better for games than weapons, Ms. Archer. In addition, I was far better at designing technology for games than for war. There were other reasons, but those were the two out-standing ones."

"So you design your technology yourself?" she asked, surprised. I frowned. She thought I was putting on airs, did she? I could build things she had never heard of, things she used every day without thinking.

"Almost all, yes. And absolutely everything is tested by me to ensure it works properly. The game Un-Masqued is one which has recently been marketed which I designed personally."

She leaned forward, looking astonished. I wasn't surprized. Un-Masqued was a hugely popular video game that had grossed $1,000,000 and counting. It had only been out for half a month. Plus, its graphics and sophistication were beening lauded in every gamers magazine in the nation. An aspiring reporter determined to find fault with me could hardly be expected to grasp the amazing concept of me as an intelligent game designer and not a lazy despot.

"So," she said slowly, "How involved are you in Kaiba Corp?"

I was so shocked I almost gaped at her. What did she think I was, a figure-head? Didn't she know that I had _decreased_ the roll of my advisers (at that time, the Big Five) when I had taken over Kaiba Corp? That I had done away with them entirely, only replacing them within the last two years? That their powers were, again, drastically decreased? Who would be running Kaiba Corp but me?

"I am greatly involved, Ms. Archer. I am the CEO and have been since I was 12. I make the decisions here and my word is final. I have devoted most of my life to Kaiba Corp." I told her coldly.

"Oh. I understand, however, that Kaiba Corp policy is that a living member of the Kaiba family inherits the position of CEO. So you would have ended up the CEO without any effort, right?"

"I think you are forgeting that I took over Kaiba Corp from my step-father, Ms. Archer. I had to put a great deal of effort into that. I assure you, Ms. Archer," by this point my voice could have frozen boiling water, "I have earned every dollar I have."

"I did not forget." I did a double take. Her voice was as cold as mine.

"My apologies, Ms. Archer." I said slowly. "I'm afraid that I must have misunderstood the question." I didn't apologize frequently and it was much more that the worry that she would end the interview and write an unflattering artical that made me do it. She pursed her lips, but continued the interview.

"I meant, why put so much effort into Kaiba Corp? You could have waited to inherit instead. You could have let the advisors run Kaiba Corp until you finished school. Why did you take on such a burden?"

Why did I work so hard? Well, I had wanted Kaiba Corp from the begining. It would mean a better life for me and Mokuba, it would free me from Gozaboro, it would leave me free to duel, it would give me the money to buy the Blue Eyes White Dragon. But it was more than that. It would erase the feeling of shame I had carried form the moment I had entered the orphanage. I would never need anyone's charity again if I had Kaiba Corp. But I also loved Kaiba Corp.

"Let's just say that I am determined to prove myself." I said, holding back a smirk, knowing the answer I _wanted_ to work wouldn't make sense to her.

"Prove yourself?" Her raised eyebrows told me she knew that wasn't the real answer. "So, how has being the CEO of Kaiba Corp affected your school work?"

After several discourses covering how my position at Kaiba Corp affected school, Duel Monsters, and my social life she asked the question I had expected since the begining of the interview.

"Do you ever give to charity, like the orphanage you grew up in?"

"Kaiba Corp has some scholarship funds, but no, I do not give to charity." I waited for her to raise her eyebrows, frown, or tisk. It didn't come.

"Why not?"

Why didn't I give to charity? I had seen what was done with charity money. Care-takers of children were given pay raises, the administrator of a crumbling orphanage bought booze and women. Meanwhile, the older children were stealing extra food in the streets and the younger ones were fighting for the best blankets. But it was more than that. If I, an orphan with no prospects, could earn every cent of millions of dollars, then everyone else should be able to earn their own ways.

"I want people to earn what they get from me." I told her. She didn't look shocked at all. She just smiled slightly for the first time, standing and offering her hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Kaiba. The article will be printed next week. I expect your advisors will bring you a copy. Should you need to contact me, here is my number."

And with that, Ms. Alyx Archer left my office.

-

_Mr. Seto Kaiba has been the CEO of Kaiba Corp, a behemoth of the world of technology for years, since age 12. His unique history has wrought a man of exceptional talent. He tests each of his company's products personally, much of which he designed himself. "The game Un-Masqued is one which has recently been marketed which I designed personally." Mr. Kaiba said. Despite the restrictions it places on his social life, Mr. Kaiba has devotedly cared for Kaiba Corp over the years. Within the last month its stock has risen fifteen percent. Many market experts atribute this to the huge sucsess of Un-Masqued. And even though he works a job many much older than him could not handle, Mr. Kaiba's grades have been exemplary. He attends Domino High and is currently in his final year. In this full __schedule, He has made time for his hobby of Duel Monsters, even throwing a tournament several years ago. But despite all of his amazing achevements, Mr. Kaiba remains young at heart. He wears his trademake trench coat most of the time instead of a suit and tie. And his eyes are not dull, squinty, and half hidden behind thick lenses, but a bright cobalt. His eyes burn with a passion for his life- which is, of course, Kaiba Corp.Alyx Archer, reporter_

I could hardly believe it. She had written favorably about Kaiba Corp after interviewing me. Actually, she had written favorably about me. As promised, the article was about me through the lense of Kaiba Corp. I was delighted. If it had not been 11 o'clock at night I would have taken Mokuba out to dinner in celibration.

My eyes rested on the last two sentences. I had never heard my eyes described as anything but cold and blue. She had called them cobalt, said they burned with passion. I felt almost as elated about that as anything else. I rarely thought of my appearance, but I enjoyed hearing that someone liked my eyes. The odd desire to thank her rose within me.

Hesitating only for a moment I picked up the phone and dialed the number she had left. It rang four times and then she picked up. It sounded like she had been asleep.

"Hello, this is Alyx."

"Ms. Archer-" I started, but suddenly I didn't know what to say. How to explain that I had called her at this late hour to thank her for complementing my eyes?

"Yes?" she prompted.

"I'm sorry if I woke you. This is Seto Kaiba. I've just read your article." I stopped again. It really had been stupid to call her about those final two lines.

"Did you like it?"

"Yes, very much. I've rarely gotten such a favorable review." I confessed.

"I know. My journalism professor told me it was a very unconventional article. I told him that was the point."

My heart leapt involuntarily. She had decided to do a favorable review because that wasn't the norm? Not because of our interview? My pride was wounded.

"I don't understand, Ms. Archer. What was the point?"

"To get the real you, not all the biased shit I've read about you."

"You've read about me?" My pride was swelling again.

"Yes. For a business class. The project is due tomorrow."

"Really?" I had just gotten an insane, unprompted idea in my head. "Ms. Archer, I'd love to see this project. Would you agree share it with me tonight? I'll take you out for a late meal afterwards."

"Um, sure." She faltered. "My address is 23 Miami Drive. You can come in half an hour?"

"Yes, of course. Good bye, Ms. Archer."

"Bye."

I arrived at her door promptly half an hour later. It was a small house, but neatly kept. She answered the door quickly. I had to resist staring. Her hair was braided back this time. She wore a pair of jeans and a loose white button down. She look so different from when I first met her it was hard to credit, yet there was still that sense she was as strong as the grey granite that matched her eyes.

"Mr. Kaiba. Come in, please." She guided me into a small room positively filled with books and technology. A laptop was just visible on the table in the center. She brought me a mug of tea which I sipped as she explained her project.

"We had to pick a particular person who has been prominent in the business world and write a report on what made them successful." She said, look a bit nervous now that I was interviewing her. I didn't truly care; I simply wanted to ask if she really liked my eyes.

"And what makes me successful?" I asked.

"Your ruthlessness." She said dispassionately. I sat up straighter and stared at her. Never, _never_ had I been complemented on my ruthlessness. I was always been told I ought to be more compassionate. And here was someone lauding me for my ruthlessness. She didn't care at all.

"Really? What else?" I inquired, striving to sound detached.

"Your passion. Your dedication. Your natural intelligence. I was shocked when you told me you designed your games as well as running your business."

"So why did you pick me?" I leaned forward eagerly, throwing caution to the winds.

"I want to be like you. I want to be able to earn my way and work hard at something I love. I want money and power and joy and pride. I knew you were lying when you said that you wanted to prove yourself. You don't need to prove yourself. You just love to work because you love Kaiba Corp." she said. The words rang with sincerity. She thought of me as a role model. She was going to fight her way up, just as I had. She knew how much I cherished my company and loved it as fiercely as I did.

"Thank you." I was astonished to find my eyes burning with unshed tears. "Um... my I look at your project now?"

"Yes, it's on the laptop, just a moment." She called up the project on the screen and handed it to me. The title was Cobalt. I stared at it for a moment and looked up at her. She seemed to be trembling. I stood up.

"Ms. Archer, in your article... you described my eyes rather flatteringly. Do you like my eyes?"

"Yes, only please don't call me Ms. Archer. I'm Alyx."

"Then you must call me Seto." I bent down just enough to press my lips to hers in a kiss. It was strong and powerful; neither of us did things by halves. I knew when we parted I could not care for her like I did for Mokuba. She would not to be sheltered. She would grow on her own and a union between us would be violent and potent. We would struggle, pushing each other to be better, to work harder, to win. It was because of this that I knew I loved her.

She was Alyx and I was Seto and we were a whirl of power and money and passion and joy and love and strength and pride and fire and work and sweat and blood and knowledge and braids and trench coats and granite and cobalt.

AN: I wanted to keep Seto in character for this. How did I do? Also, Ms. Alyx Archer is my first OC (excepting the maid Mimi from Coming of Age), so I'd love feed back on her. Please review!


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